


Brain Invader Douchebaggery

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mind Control, Sexual Fantasy, Situational Humiliation, Update Tag, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 02:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake's brain gets even more X-rated when dream ghost Dirk isn't hanging around heckling him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brain Invader Douchebaggery

**Author's Note:**

> Update speedporn because that's how I roll.

Your mind keeps wandering, and you really can't help it-- especially now that the blasted dream-ghost bit of Strider isn't in your head calling every untoward thought you have to his full, mortifying scrutiny. Even if there had been something you're afraid to have almost _liked_ about how he'd manipulated you, not that you are admitting there was. You are absolutely not admitting that it would be cracking good for him to push harder on whatever part of your brain he'd been in, that you would not find it at all untoward for him to set off a cascade that would take you beyond an uncomfortable (and embarrassing) but ultimately harmless reaction and into shuddering, weak-kneed _want_.

Oh, _crumbs_. It's a good thing Strider isn't here anymore, because he would be just _insufferable_ if he knew you were doing his job of humiliating yourself _for_ him. You might tell the real Strider about it, later, though. Between the way his blasted AI clones act and how his robot thrashes you mercilessly, you think he might like to hear that; unfortunately for your gentlemanly decorum right now, though, _you_ apparently like the thought of him hearing that almost as much as he will. Not that you have much, because you're in a room with a _brain invader_ who probably knows everything you're thinking anyway!

She'd hear it if Strider had started stroking your brain with carnal intentions, wouldn't she? Hopefully not, because she's back in your head as soon as you think that; Strider is behind you, hand down the front of your shorts as soon as the scene starts, and she's _watching_ instead of offering to leave. She would lick her cerulean lips, tongue going over her sharp little fangs, and she would _watch_ as Strider starts taking you apart with his sword-roughened hands as surely as he has inside of your head.

A gentleman does not allow a lady to go unsatisfied, of course, but she'll shake her head when you offer. Part of what makes her so devilishly attractive-- besides the blue blush to her skin and the seductive bite of spider fangs over her lip-- is that she's _not_ allowing you to enact your fantasy within a fantasy. No, she stands there in her fancy dress, perfectly composed, and _watches_ with a fascination that shows her decorum is _not_ disinterest.

You won't get to pay attention to that for long, because Strider will demand your attention again. Inside your head, probably, locking your focus on what he's doing with his hands--

"Are you sure I shouldn't leave?" The _real_ dream ghost Aranea, not the fantasy one, asks you again. That inspires a most undignified instant of flailing, until you realize you _haven't_ completely embarrassed yourself in your clothes-- just come perilously close to it, so much so that you can feel how red your face is and (less visible but more alarming) how twitchingly, hair-trigger close you are to something surely only a scoundrel would do in front of a lady.

"I-- ah, I'm truly sorry, but I think you had better," you manage to say. Your voice squeaks a little bit as you talk, but other than that you hold your composure admirably.

As soon as she's gone, you stagger over to the bed and flop down. When you reach up to unbuckle your belt, though, your hands stop doing what you tell them to; instead you reach up and fist them in the blankets.  _I'm a figment of your imagination, English, of course I know when you want me to come back._

You still want to wake up and talk to the _real_ Strider, of course, but surely some practice before the big event won't hurt.


End file.
